


Time After Time

by rainbowsandgucci



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Canon Compliant, History, M/M, Magic, Suffering, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death, There IS a happy ending though!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6770929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsandgucci/pseuds/rainbowsandgucci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Pete and Patrick fall in love, they’re in 16th century England, the year is 1576, and they’re both fifteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time After Time

**Author's Note:**

> So...a HUGE thank you to literally everyone who's listened to me ramble about this fic over the last seven months. You're all amazing.  
> Thank you to [pastelmess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelmess) for being a history nerd, [disenchanfed](http://disenchanfed.tumblr.com/) for reading and crying several times but still loving me, and [frankieroandthewaybros](http://frankieroandthewaybros.tumblr.com/) for making sure it was coherent.  
> Enjoy!!!

The first time Pete and Patrick fall in love, they’re in 16th century England, the year is 1576, and they’re both fifteen.

They’re both young, but neither of them are naive enough to believe that they can ever be together openly; two men being together isn’t unheard of, but them being together wouldn’t benefit either of their families in any way, and thus would never be accepted. So they hide their romantic feelings behind the rouse of the close friendship they’ve had since they were babies.

Patrick, at that time, is Patrick Blackwell V, and comes from one of the wealthiest families in England. 

Pete is Peter Kingsley; he comes from a well-known and proud military family. They’re not quite at the same high social status as the Blackwell’s, but they’ve been close for as long as anyone can remember, so it doesn’t matter.

When they’re sixteen, they have sex for the first time. Both of them are terrified, and a few nights later, Patrick sneaks into Peter’s home, and they do it again.

When they’re both eighteen, talk of wedding preparations begin, and Patrick meets his betrothed. Her name is Isabel, Peter had learned when they’d met. She’s beautiful, kind, and everything Patrick deserves. Peter hates her. 

They’re able to spend less and less time together. The now regular sex stops, they hardly see each other outside of meals their families eat together, and the first time they’re able to be alone together after almost two months, they lay in bed and hold each other tearfully.

Neither of them discuss it, but they both know they’re nearing the last of their time together.

Only a month later, it’s the night before Patrick’s wedding and Peter is able to spend the night across the hall from Patrick, under the guise of helping him prepare in the morning. Around midnight, he sneaks across the hall to Patrick’s bedroom, and they spend one last terribly bittersweet night together.

\-----

It’s 1582, Patrick has been married three horrible years, has been gone almost as long, and Peter is miserable. He stayed in bed for months after Patrick and Isabel left, and everyone must have assumed he’d fallen gravely ill after all the wedding festivities.

He doesn’t particularly care.

He’s certain his mother knows the truth though, because of the way she looks at him; her eyes filled with concern and pity. She doesn’t push though, and for that Peter’s grateful.

\-----

Some time after Patrick has left -he’s told it’s been six years, but he doesn’t particularly care. Patrick being gone makes it feel like sixty- he’s long since been forced to leave his bed, and spends his days wandering around aimlessly. One particular day, he goes into the woods at the back of his family’s property, hoping perhaps he can find something to distract him, or maybe an ill-spirited witch will turn him into a toad and put him out of his misery.

After he’s been walking an unknown amount of time, he stumbles across a small dog. It’s quite filthy, and when it sees him, runs happily over and begins jumping on his legs, begging for affection. He’s surprised at first, having expected it to be either rabid or sick, and then kneels down to pet it, smiling and laughing quietly for the first time in what seems like forever when it immediately rolls onto it’s back.

“What in God’s name are you doing way out here?” He murmurs, before reaching out to pull the dog into his arms, then standing up and looking around for some sign of any human life. Seeing nothing, he looks down at the dog’s happy face and scratches at its chin. “There’s no way something as small as you could have gotten all the way out here on your own.” He pets the dog a few more moments, and then sighs. “Look at me, in the middle of the woods, conversing with an animal.” He rolls his eyes at himself, then continues walking in no particular direction, still carrying the dog.

After what he figures to be at least an hour of walking, the dog starts squirming in his arms, scratching him, and causing him to drop it. “Ah! Damn! That hurt!” He examines his injury, and upon seeing it’s only bleeding slightly, looks up to see the dog several feet away, looking at him. He gives it an unimpressed look, then walks towards it, reaching out to pick it up when he gets close enough, only for it to quickly run away again, then stop a few feet away from him and sit again. He blinks, then laughs as he walks forward again. “Oh you have to be _joking_. I refuse to play this game.” He bends down again, this time expecting it when the dog runs away, stopping further away from him than the time before. He sighs, walking to the dog and stopping in front of it. “Alright, you’ve got my attention. What do you want?” The dog yips at him, then turns around and begins trotting away, this time not stopping for Peter, but turning around to make sure he’s following. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming.” He begins walking quickly after the dog, silently wondering what he did to deserve this.

Several hours -and way too much walking- later, the dog _finally_ stops several yards in front of him, and turns around to wait for him to catch up again. When he reaches it, he’s fully expecting it to run again, but isn’t anticipating the hut that seems to magically appear behind it. His eyes widen as he gapes at it. The dog barks for the first time, startling Peter into jumping back. “What is the matter with you!?” he yells, huffing when the dog turns around again, this time going towards the hut.

When Peter finally reaches the hut, the dog is nowhere to be seen, and he’s panting slightly. He stops, letting himself catch his breath as he looks around for any sign of the dog. After a few minutes, he sighs and starts towards the cabin, figuring he may as well ask whoever lives here if the dog is at least theirs. As he gets nearer, he realizes how dark it has gotten as he followed the dog through the woods, and decides he should probably ask which way he should go to get back to his family’s estate.

He reaches the door, looking around nervously at the slightly dusty windows, before steeling himself and knocking. After several moments, there’s no answer, and he tries again. This time, the door opens to reveal a man, who’s several inches taller than Peter, and looks to be about a hundred years old. He’s wearing an odd looking robe, that’s decorated with beads and flowers, and what looks like spiders. They look like they might be moving, but Peter doesn’t look too closely.

The man looks surprised at having a visitor, and doesn’t say anything, so Peter decides to instead. “Um. Excuse me sir, but, I might be the slightest bit lost, and was wondering if perhaps you might be able to point me in the right direction?” The man raises his eyebrows even further (a feat that really shouldn’t be possible) before shaking his head, and speaking in a voice that sounds far younger than he looks.

“Well of course I can my boy, but you look rather exhausted. Why don’t you come in and rest first?” Peter considers, looking dubiously at the quickly darkening sky, before shrugging.

“Alright, thank you, but I mustn’t stay for very long.” The man nods, and steps aside, gesturing Peter inside before closing the door behind them.

The man busies himself making what looks to be tea, and Peter takes the opportunity to take in the house. It’s cozy, not large, but far more open than a house of its size usually is. There’s a bed in the corner with a comfortable looking blanket on it, and a washbin next to it. That’s about where the normal parts of the house end. The ceiling has several covered cages hanging from it, a couple of them are rocking slightly, and Peter shudders at what might be in them; all sorts of herbs and vegetables are hanging near the fireplace. There’s a row of shelves starting at the foot of the bed, and stretching along the wall until it meets behind the door. On the shelves are many old books, and bottles filled with amber and clear colored liquids, a couple jars filled with a liquids that seem to be more than one color, some with leaves or other herbs floating around in them, and others that look like they’re…..shimmering? Peter shakes his head, thinking he must be imagining things, and turns his attention back to the man, who’s just now turning around with two mugs in hand. He smiles kindly at Peter, offering him one, and when he takes it, points to one of the chairs around the small table near the fireplace.

Once they’re both seated, the man looks at Peter for a moment, seeming to be trying to read him, before he clears his throat. “So, I’m assuming you didn’t just come across my little home on accident?” Peter blinks.

“Well I... I didn’t find it on purpose? If that’s what you’re wondering. No, I was, well this might sound silly but, I was following a dog? And it, well it led me here, then disappeared, and I’m sort of lost, and it’s dark, so I figured I’d knock and find out if anyone could direct me back home.” The man nods, obviously not surprised.

“Alright, so you followed the dog here, I should have guessed. So what is troubling you my dear? And what is your name? This won’t work if I don’t know at least your given name.” Peter shakes his head, looking confusedly at the man.

“Sir I’m sorry, but I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about. What’s troubling me is that I’m in the middle of the woods, it’s late, and I’m terribly _lost_ , so I’d really appreciate you helping me find my way back home before my family begins to worry.” The man sighs, and then calmly takes a sip of his tea. Peter does as well, and almost spits it out. That is _not_ tea.

“Right, I’m going to explain then. The dog that you followed? Her name is Lily, she’s not really mine, because she’s not anyone’s dog really, nor is she really even _real_ enough to be anyone’s dog. She’s not fake either though, if we’re being technical she’s not even really a-um. Right. Anyway, anyone that the dog leads here, has something troubling them, and I’m to help them, if they want it, that’s how it works.” Peter shakes his head again.

“I’m sorry, but there’s _nothing_ troubling me, except for the fact that I’ve found a stray dog in the middle of the woods! I don’t need any help.” The man laughs, looking amused instead of the contrite Peter had hoped for.

“You’re feisty, I like that, it’ll help you later on. But really, there is something troubling you. In my experience -and I’ve got a lot of it- no one who follows a dog for more than an hour through the woods near dark is untroubled.” Peter is silent, staring at the man in bewilderment, before slumping into his seat.

“Alright, _fine_. Maybe I am a little troubled, but it’s none of your business, and it’s certainly no business of a _dog’s_ , real or not.” The man rolls his eyes.

“Well, whether it’s my business or not, I _can_ help you Peter.” Peter feels his growing frustration freeze, and he stares, wide eyed at the man.

“How did you-I never said-”

“I told you, I can help you.”

Peter swallows, then licks his lips. Finally, he takes a deep breath, then looks up at the man again.

“You-You’re some sort of mage, or something, aren’t you?”

The man smiles. “Mage, necromancer, wizard, druid, whatever you choose, yes I am.”

Peter nods slowly. “So...you can, help me with my problem then?” The mage looks kindly at him.

“You’re referring to your Patrick, am I correct?” Peter feels his heart clench, and he nods, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Yes sir, I am.” The mage nods understandingly.

“Yes, I can help you with that.” At Peter’s hopeful look, he holds a hand up.

“I must warn you though, my magic always comes with a cost. If I help you, it more than likely won’t be in an easy way, and you may want to reconsider.” Peter shakes his head vehemently.

“ _No_. I want to be with Patrick, and I would die a hundred times just to be with him.” The mage studies him, then nods.

“Alright, _you_ won’t have to die a hundred times, but remember, you’re the one who wanted this, and you’re the one who agreed to it.” Peter nods, though slightly confused, and the man stands, going to one of his many bookshelves. He selects a book from one, and a bottle from another. When he comes back, he sits, and opens the book. When Peter looks at it, all he sees are blank pages, but the mage is studying it like there’s the world’s most interesting story transcribed in the pages. Peter shakes his head, wondering if maybe this is all one big joke.

After several minutes of reading, the man holds up the bottle for Peter to see. “Peter. Are you paying attention?” When he nods, the man continues. “In this bottle, is the help that you need. Once you drink it, there is no turning back, and your decision is made.” When Peter reaches for the bottle, he pulls it away. “Ah-ah, let me explain the consequences first.” Peter reluctantly pulls his hand back, then nods. The man continues, “Once you drink this, it is guaranteed that you _will_ be with your Patrick,” Peter feels hopeful, for the first time in so long, “but, I can not tell you when.” Peter’s eyes widen.

“What...what do you mean by that?” The man sighs.

“You’ll be immortal, and you’re going to meet your Patrick several times over the years, but you will not age, or be with him the way you want for who knows how long.” Peter’s breathing picks up.

“So.... So it may be a hundred years before I’m able to be with him?” The mage smiles grimly.

“A hundred, or maybe ten thousand. I can not say.” When Peter doesn’t say anything, the mage speaks again. “Do you still want it? Or do you want to find love in someone else, in this lifetime?” Peter shakes his head.

“I want _Patrick_. I’m going to drink it.” His voice holds no place for argument, and the mage hands the bottle over.

“I wish you luck Peter, just know this. I am over a thousand years old, and I can not even _begin_ to tell you how painful that is. Consider it before you make such a bold choice.” Peter stares at him, then nods slowly.

The mage stands, and walks over to a different door than the one Peter came in through. He opens it, and Peter can see his home outside it. The mage smiles and directs him through the door. The last thing Peter hears before he turns and sees nothing but woods, is the old man speaking to him once again.

“I wish you luck, my dear boy. All the luck.”

He grips the bottle, looks back at the woods, then his home. He looks back at the bottle again, then takes the stopper off. He takes a deep breath, then drinks. When he’s finished, he tosses the bottle aside, and heads back home.

\----- 

After ten years, and several of his family members and friends pointing out his seemingly always youthful appearance, Peter starts to think that okay, maybe this is the real deal. He still feels like he’s twenty-four years old, and he definitely looks it. It’s around this time he decides he should begin traveling, lest someone look too closely and begin suspecting him of witchcraft.

He hasn’t seen Patrick in years.

So he travels, sees all that he can think to see, and loses all contact with anyone he ever knew. By the time he thinks to go back home, he realizes it’s been 70 years since he left.

The year is 1665, and everyone he has known from his first life is long gone by now. He visits the place Patrick had lived with Isabel, and finds his grave. Then he sits on it and cries for God knows how long. 

When he finishes, Peter picks himself up and goes into the nearest town. He finds a pub and becomes a frequent visitor for several years.

The next time he finds out the date, it’s 1676, he’s over one hundred years old, and apparently he can’t die from drinking too much.

He wanders away from the bar one day, for no apparent reason, and is considering going to Germany, when he accidentally trips over a rock, and the next thing he knows, he’s being helped to his feet by some bystander.

He’s rather embarrassed, but the embarrassment doesn’t last long when he looks up, and sees a face he hasn’t seen in _oh so long_ , but really hadn’t thought he’d been capable of forgetting. Apparently he _was_ capable, because Patrick is so much more beautiful than he remembers him being.

He registers that this, this _Patrick_ is speaking to him as he helps him to his feet, and he shakes his head, laughing to cover up his overwhelming desire to burst into tears and clutch at Patrick’s shirt and never let him go. “I apologize, I must have hit my head on something. Could you repeat that please?”

Patrick smiles (and Peter almost melts, because _oh_ how he’s missed that smile) and holds out his hand for Peter to shake. “I said I hope you’re alright, that was quite the stumble,” after their hands fall apart, he smiles again. “My name’s Patrick, you?”

“My name’s Peter, it’s a pleasure to meet you Patrick.”

Patrick smiles again, and Peter swallows. “The pleasure is all mine Peter. You said you hit your head, correct?” Peter nods.

“Yes, I uh. I think I hit it on a rock or something, I’ll be fine though.” Patrick shakes his head.

“Nonsense, you’re coming home with me. I can’t let you be on your own after you’ve hit your head,” he smiles kindly. “besides, the way you looked before you fell? I don’t think you should be alone now anyway.” Peter contemplates. Then, he decides to agree. What if he gets lucky and gets to be with Patrick after only a hundred years?

“Yes. You’re probably right.” He looks hopeful. “So, to your place then?” Patrick nods, and gestures for him to follow.

“Yes of course! It’s this way, we can sit and have some tea, and hopefully figure out if you’re fit to be on your own.” Peter smiles, feeling at ease for the first time since, well, forever.

“I think I’m alright, but if you insist…” Patrick laughs.

“I do! And I’m sure my wife will too.” Peter feels his heart drop, but tries not to let it show.

“Oh! Your wife? Um. What’s her name?” He covers up, trying not to let it show on his face how brokenhearted he is. Patrick smiles, a soft, loving smile that he used to reserve only for Peter.  
He feels slightly sick.

“Her name is Anna. We got married almost two years ago, and she’s the love of my life.” He looks at Peter, seemingly oblivious to his turmoil. “Do you have someone?” Peter laughs bitterly.

“I used to.” Patrick looks sympathetic, and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. You will find someone new, I know it.” Peter nods, acting comforted.

“Thank you Patrick, I’m sure I will.” Patrick smiles again, and begins directing Peter the way he wants to go.

“Come, we’ll have tea and discuss politics, it’ll clear your mind right away.” Patrick laughs lightly and Peter nods, feeling determined. If this isn’t the time him and Patrick will be able to be together as lovers, he’ll at least make the most of being his friend.

\-----

He remains in that little town for another ten years, and only decides to leave in 1686, after Patrick and Anna (who really is very nice, Peter adores her, as much as he hates himself for it) have their third child. He loves children, and Patrick’s little ones, Grace and Henry, are the miniature loves of his life.

He just can’t handle it anymore. Besides, people are starting to notice how he doesn’t age, and he doesn’t want to stick around to see where that goes. When he tells Patrick and Anna he’s leaving, they both look saddened, but understanding.

Anna gives him a tearful hug. “I’m going to miss you so much Peter. You’ll write, won’t you?” Peter nods, knowing full well he more than likely won’t.

Patrick is next, crushing him in one of his tight hugs Peter’s going to miss until the next time, and when he pulls away, he has tears in his eyes as well. “Come back, if you ever need to, alright?” When Peter doesn’t respond, he squeezes his shoulders. “I mean it Peter, I feel like I know you much better than even our ten years should warrant. I’m going to miss you.” They hug again, and Peter clutches at Patrick desperately.

“I’m going to miss you too my dear Patrick, please don’t forget me.”

Patrick laughs disbelievingly. “Forget you? Peter, even if I tried, I don’t think Grace or Henry would ever let me!” Peter laughs, feeling his eyes wet with tears.

“You’re right I suppose, I’m going to miss those two to death.” Patrick looks sad.

“They’ll miss their Uncle Peter.” He’s silent for a moment, before sighing. “I know you don’t plan on writing, I don’t know _why_ mind you, but...” He pauses. “If you, um, If you ever feel lonely, please write to them. It’d mean the world Peter.” Peter instantly feels awful. He hadn’t planned on writing, had mostly planned on trying to forget Patrick and his beautiful, perfect little family as soon as possible.

“I’ll try Patrick, I’ll try.” He says it as earnestly as possible, and when Patrick nods, he goes to bid the children farewell.

He’s gone the next day, and writes each of the children - even little Toby, who he’s never met - at least once a year, until he realizes it’s been too long, and Patrick and Anna are either both dead, or very old. 

He goes back, forty years later, just in time to see Patrick before he dies.

He’s old, and frail, and doesn’t recognize Peter.

He’s still beautiful though, and Peter wants to grow old with him so badly it hurts.

\-----

He arrives in Germany in 1726, and meets another Patrick there. This Patrick’s name is spelled ‘Patrik’ and Patrik _hates_ Peter, absolutely loathes him, and Peter has no idea why. He tries to stick around, hoping maybe he can win him over, but when Patrick threatens bodily harm, Peter stays away. He moves several towns away, finds a job, and makes friends -Rafael, Urs, and Gunther- but it’s not what he really wants. He stays anyway, until Gunther is killed in a barfight. 

He can’t handle losing friends, on top of losing Patrick, so in 1736, he leaves.

\-----

He goes back to England, where he meets another Patrick. This time, he’s just as friendly as Peter remembers him, is unmarried, and loves Peter back in _that way_ for the first time since 1576 . 

They’re together three and a half months before a local finds out about them, and Patrick disappears a week later. Peter looks for him for three days, before finding his body in the river that flows through the woods. He cries, vomits, and digs a grave with shaking hands. He leaves the next day.

\-----

When he reaches China, the first person he meets is Patrick. Patrick smiles and welcomes Peter, introducing himself as Pengfei, and asks if Peter needs help finding a place to stay. It’s much too soon, so Peter declines, and leaves hastily. After a few months, he finds a small village to settle down in; he buries himself in learning Chinese, and revels in the domesticity and quietness of it.

The first year he’s there, he lives on his own. It’s nice, but he’s used to having people around, so he’s admittedly lonely. Then he befriends a nice old woman, around the age of 50, named Mei Wǔ, who reminds him so much of his own grandmother from so long ago that it almost brings him to tears. He’s older than her - technically - but she makes him feel like he’s young, and it’s good. She has no family of her own, as her husband passed away several years ago, and her daughter had moved away not long after. He moves in with her not long after he meets her, in 1737, and their relationship becomes akin to a mother and son.

One night, he wakes in a cold sweat, his breathing labored, as he lets himself feel the pain of losing Patrick so many times, for the first time. He’s drowning in the pain for so long he doesn’t even realize he’s sobbing and calling out for Patrick until he’s being wrapped in Mei’s arms. She’s speaking calmly and holding him like his mother used to when he was a child, and lets him cling to her until he calms down.

When his sobs have finally tapered off into hiccups and small sniffs, she brushes his sweat soaked hair that’s sticking to his face, and whispers quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t want to, not really, but it’s Mei, and he can’t tell her no, so he sniffs again and looks up at her. “Tea?” She smiles softly, then moves to stand.

“Of course my dear, come sit with me.” He nods, and follows her into the kitchen, sitting at the table and wrapping his arms protectively around himself. He spaces out, staring at the softly dancing flame of the candle resting in the center of the table. Peter blinks, looking up at Mei when she sets his teacup in front of him. After she sits, they’re both silent for several minutes, before she speaks.

“My husband, he was in the military. He left shortly after we became married, and I always remembered him as the joyful man he always had been, so full of life.” she looks up, as if to make sure Peter’s listening. He nods, and she continues. “When he came back, he was different. He was still himself of course, but he was still different. I didn’t notice at first, I was much to happy to have him back safe to care.” She sighs, and takes a sip of her tea. “It wasn’t until I began meeting friends of his that he’d fought with,” She looks pointedly at him, “they all had the same look in their eyes; like they’d seen too much death, and blamed themselves for it.” She’s quiet again, saddened. “I know you said you’d never fought in a war dear, but you have that exact same look in your eyes.”

Peter laughs bitterly, wiping tears that threaten to fall away. “I’ve been fighting my own war every day Mei, for a very long time, and I have no idea how much longer I will be either.” She looks at him, searching.

“You’re much older than you seem, aren’t you Peter?” His heart freezes, and he looks up, making eye contact with her, before nodding slowly. She nods, as if she’d known it all along. “I don’t really know who you are Peter, what you’ve lived through, or what else you’re going to have to live through, but-” she reaches across the table and holds onto his hand, squeezing it comfortingly, “I believe in you, and I know you’ll make it through.” She smiles softly, and Peter feels at ease, for the first time in so long.

“Thank you Mei; you’re too good to me.” Her smile widens and she stands, opening her arms for him to step into.

“I am nowhere near the good you deserve Peter. You deserve the world.” She squeezes him tightly before they pull apart. Mei begins cleaning up their cups, and he offers to help, but she shoos him away. As he’s turning to go begrudgingly, she stops him. “And Peter?” He turns, looking quizzically at her. She smiles kindly, “This man you cry for, Patrick?” He’s shocked momentarily, before realizing he must have said his name several times when he was crying. He nods carefully, and she continues, “You will find him, I can feel it.” He smiles softly.

“Thank you Mei, I hope so.”

\-----

He stays with Mei for the rest of her life, another thirty-two years, and when she dies, it’s peaceful and in her sleep, and finding her the next morning is one of the worst moments of Peter’s life.

He stays in China another twenty years after she’s gone, as he can’t seem to force himself to leave the cozy little house.

After a while, he finally looks at how much the world around him is changing. He decides he wants to leave, and for the first time, leaves somewhere feeling hopeful.

He leaves in 1789, and he takes his time. Peter goes to Parustan first, stays there for a few months, before he goes to Turkey. He likes Turkey, and stays there for three years, before he feels the itch to move again.

He goes down to Egypt, and when he gets there, wonders why in the _world_ he had never come to see the pyramids before, since they absolutely take his breath away.

Another thing that takes his breath away, is Patrick.

He’s been keeping track, and this is the first time he’s seen Patrick since 1736, almost sixty years. This time they meet in the small town that Peter has been staying in since he arrived. This Patrick has a darker skin tone and hair, as his features always change to fit the place Peter meets him in, but it still looks so undeniably like _him_ that Peter aches.

Peter’s eating in the home of the family he’s staying with, and when the son of the owner enters the room, Peter stares, and watches him. When Patrick catches him watching, he smiles, then looks away, continuing to talk to his brother. A few moments later, he looks again and looks confused to see Peter still watching him. Peter blushes, and looks away, but a minute later hears footsteps coming over to him. When he looks up, Patrick’s pulling out the chair next to him, and offering him a smile.

“Hello.” Peter’s surprised, not having expected him to be able to speak any English. Though he shouldn’t have, his father is fairly fluent, and it seems Patrick’s the eldest.

Peter smiles back. “Hello, my name’s Peter.” Patrick nods, then speaks.

“Nice to meet you Peter, I am Paru.” Peter nods.

“Oh, nice to meet you too Paru, um…” He searches for something to say, unsure what they should talk about. Paru laughs.

“You are….how do you say….a little lost for word?” Peter chuckles, face flushing.

“Yes, I do suppose I am, sorry?” Paru smiles.

“Why were you staring at me Peter?”

“You, uh. You look like someone I used to know.” Paru’s face softens.

“Someone you miss?” Peter smiles softly.

“Yes, very much.” Paru studies him, then nods understandingly, before looking up when his father begins speaking to him. After their exchange, Paru turns to Peter.

“My father, he says you have never been here?” Peter shakes his head.

“No I haven’t.” Paru stands, gesturing for Peter to smile.

“Come, I will show you around.”

They exit the house, Peter thanking Paru’s mother profusely for breakfast, and Paru gives Peter a tour.

After that, they become very close, and Peter decides to stay in Egypt, hoping beyond hope that _this_ is the time.

He works with Paru, his brothers (Alim, Shu, and Ti) and father (Lateef) out in their fields, and after it’s become clear he’s not leaving, they let him stay with them. He tries to insist on finding his own place, but Paru’s mother (Ani) won’t have it, saying he’s been there so long already she would be lost without him.

So he stays.

He stays for seven years, and everything seems to be going good, until Paru starts talk of leaving to go study in one of the big cities. Peter agrees with him, if only to make him happy (god, anything to see any version of Patrick happy), and a year later, he’s packed his bags and is leaving his childhood home, and Peter. The night before he’s set to leave, Paru comes into the room they share - Paru’s family wasn’t one of the richest, but Lateef is a skilled craftsman, and they have a decent sized house, with four different bedrooms, so Peter and Paru had been sharing - well after everyone else had gone to bed, and sits cross legged on Peter’s cot. He throws him a confused look, before speaking in his now nearly fluent Arabic.

“Are you alright?” Paru shrugs, then smiles softly at him.

“I suppose I am, I’m finally getting what I want, so I should be happy, hm?” Peter huffs a laugh, happy that after all this time, he can still read Patrick, no matter what.

“But?”

Paru sighs. “I am happy. But,” He looks bashfully up at Peter. “I shouldn’t be more upset about leaving _you_ than I am about leaving my family.” Peter blinks, taken aback.

“I don’t underst-” Paru glares haughtily at him.

“Don’t do that! You understand completely Peter,” He sits up on his knees, and crawls closer to Peter, who sits up, heartbeat erratic.

“P-Paru-what are y-you-” Paru moves forward, and firmly kisses Peter on the mouth. Peter pushes against him all of five seconds, before he gives up, and is completely prepared to let Paru completely devour him.

It’s been so long.

 _Too fucking long_.

They make out messily for several minutes, Paru using his knees to nudge Peter’s legs apart so he can rest between them and lean forward so he’s hovering over him. When they finally pull away for air, Paru smiles at Peter’s kiss-swollen lips and leans in to peck his cheek lightly. “I _knew_ it.” He murmurs. Peter’s eyebrows furrow and he looks up at him.

“What did you know?” Paru chuckles, and brings a hand up to gently run his fingers down Peter’s cheek.

“I knew you, you wanted me. It’s been so _obvious_ , ever since we first met.” Peter blushes.

“Really? I was _that_ obvious?” Paru just smiles, and leans down to kiss him again. The kiss is sloppy and so fucking good Peter never wants to stop. Too soon, Paru pulls away, and tugs at the hem of Peter’s sleepshirt, looking questioningly up at him. Peter’s breath catches, and he nods. Paru smiles happily and pushes his shirt up, sucking lightly at one of Peter’s nipples and causing him to cry out. 

Paru reaches a hand up and covers his mouth. “Sssh, you don’t want anyone waking up, do you?” Peter shakes his head, then licks at Paru’s hand, making him jerk it away. When he sees Peter laughing up at him he laughs as well, lifting Peter’s shirt off the rest of the way and shaking his head as he mutters, “Silly.” Peter giggles, and grips Paru’s shoulders to bring him in for another kiss.

The next time they break apart, the laughter is gone from both of their eyes, and Paru is slowly sneaking a hand down to massage at Peter’s ass; he looks up at Peter questioningly, asking for permission. Peter takes a deep breath, then nods, closing his eyes and groaning softly when Paru slides his other hand down and uses both to slide his pants down his legs and off, until he can throw them on the floor. The next thing Peter feels, is the soft caress of Paru’s hand slowly dragging up his leg; across his ankle, his calf, and only stopping when it reaches his thigh.

Peter lets out a small whimper when Paru doesn’t continue to moves his hand, and opens his eyes to see what could possibly have made him stop. He’s greeted with Paru staring at him intensely, and he blushes under the attention. “P-Paru, what…?” Paru just shakes his head, and then directs his attention back to what he was previously doing.

It doesn’t hit Peter, until Paru’s inside him, thrusting just _right_ and hitting that _spot_ so _so_ good, that this is the first time he’s had Patrick this way since England, in 1736. It’s been _64 years_. With that realization, Peter comes, biting into his forearm to stop himself from crying out. Paru lets out a small groan, and a few thrusts later, comes inside Peter.

When they’re finished, they curl up around each other, and Peter has to face the fact that come tomorrow, he’s going to lose Patrick _again_.

\-----

Peter stays with Paru’s family for another five years, because as much as he stayed for Paru, he’s grown to love his family as well, and he can’t just abandon them. So he stays, until the next eldest, Alim, gets married, and Peter begins to feel like -no matter how much Ani protests- he’s getting to be a burden.

So it’s 1805, and once again, he packs his bags. This time, he goes West. He finds himself in Algeria for a couple years, but after a while, no Patrick comes along, and while he’s decided to just let fate play her game, he’s not a very patient man, so he leaves there too.

From Algeria, he goes to Mauritania, where he stays for six months, but ultimately doesn’t feel happy there, so he goes to Senegal.

After seven months in Senegal, he meets Patrick again. This Patrick is cold, and has a very no nonsense personality. It’s odd, but then Peter finds out he captains a ship that crosses from Mauritania in Africa to South America, and then it makes sense.

This Patrick is from Argentina, his name is Poncio, and unlike what Peter’s first impression of him was, he’s very quick to laugh, and begins to teach Peter Spanish, once he decides that he wants to cross over to South America with Poncio. Peter discovers he has a wife though, and four children back home in Brazil, with another on the way. 

They reach Brazil two years after they met, and Peter doesn’t stick around, but makes his way around Brazil. He finds South America fascinating, as it’s something he hasn’t experienced yet.

A year later, he finds himself in Blumenau, Brazil, and after a night of extensive partying, befriends a man named Saulo, whose first words to him are, “Peter? What kind of stupid name is that!? You’re in _Brazil_ , I’m calling you Pete!” They become fast friends, and once he finds out _Pete_ doesn’t have a place to stay, he offers his home. Pete gladly accepts, and less than three days after meeting, they’re living together.

Pete absolutely loves Saulo, -who insists on being called Saul- not as much as Patrick, or even Mei, but he loves him. He’s the first person that makes him forget he’s 247 years old, makes him laugh on a daily basis, and is also the first person he has sex with, that isn’t Patrick.

Pete feels like shit at first, but then he figures-ok he doesn’t really figure anything; sex with Saul is messy and sometimes rushed and sloppy, but it’s fucking _good_ , and Pete feels alive for the first time in a long time. He and Saul never become official though, as Saul doesn’t like commitment, and Pete wouldn’t anyway, so it works for them.

They live together ten years, before Saul meets a woman named Juanita, and promptly falls in love. Pete’s had time though, he has a job, and money saved up, so he moves out, into his own home not far away. Surprising himself, he sticks around, watches Saul and Juanita get married that same year, and two years after that, in 1821, they have a beautiful baby boy. When Pete asks what his name is, Saul just grins at him, and says, “Peter Dominic Barrios.” Pete laughs in disbelief.

“I thought you said Peter was a stupid name!” Saul just shrugs and smirks at him.

“It only sounds stupid matched with your stupid face.” They both burst into laughter, and Saul brings Pete in to meet his namesake. Pete almost tells Juanita to have some sense, and rename the child, because…..because there’s no way something as angelic and beautiful as that little baby deserves to have a name associated with _him_.

Instead, he cradles him, and smiles up at Juanita. “He’s so handsome, Nita, he obviously gets his looks from his mother.” She laughs, and smiles at Saul, who lets out an affronted “Hey!” but then proceeds to agree.

\-----

In 1824, Saul and Juanita receive word from Juanita’s family back home in Peru that her father has fallen ill, and has less than two weeks to live. They decide to move to Peru, to help her mother out, and by extension, leave Pete behind.

When Saul tells him, neither of them will ever admit it, they both are crying by the end of the conversation. Even though Pete _knew_ it would happen, _knows_ he’d have had to leave pretty soon anyway (he’s known Saul for fifteen years now, and Saul’s beginning to age without him), it still is more painful than it has a right to be.

After they leave, Pete stays another two years, because he does have other friends, and a job, but Blumenau has lost it’s shine, and after two years of feeling like he’s drowning again, he decides to go to Uruguay.

\----- 

He arrives in Uruguay in 1827, because even though he wanted to leave Blumenau, he still took his time actually _leaving_ , and the rest of Brazil that he seen was pretty anyway. The first stop he makes, is in Artigas. He stays for five months, then leaves once it becomes clear he isn’t going to make any ties there.

He drifts for a few months, taking odd jobs when he needs to, and finding a place to sleep through the people he meets. It isn’t bad, but by the time he reaches Paysandú, he’s ready to have his own home to stay in every night again.

Over his years of traveling, he’s gathered a decent collection of money, since he works and saves up whenever he’s able to, keeps up with changes in currency wherever he goes, and as such, doesn’t really have to work to be comfortable. He does anyway though, because when you’ve got centuries of life to look forward to, what else is there to do?

So, the first thing he does when he reaches Paysandú is find a place to live. He doesn’t want his own place yet, not until he’s figured out where he wants to live, so he asks around, and in 1828, he finds himself living with a family by the name of Saporta.

The Saporta’s have three children, two boys and a girl, and two other men living with them. The two men are there for business reasons, though Pete doesn’t know what. He meets the first one as soon as he arrives, his name is Jacob, and he’s from America. He’s got a very crude sense of humor, but is so good with the children, that even Mrs. Saporta can’t dislike him.

Pete doesn’t meet the second man until he’s been there just over a month. Up until that point, he knew the man was an American, and that he’d lived with the Saporta’s for almost seven years, and was basically family to them at this point. Pete had seen his bedroom once, when he’d been playing with one of the children, and he’d seen a guitar sitting in the corner of the room. His mind had flashed through all the different versions of Patrick that he’d met, and how every single one of them had played guitar, or some variation of it. He’d quickly stamped down on the thought, and tried to block it from his mind.

He’d gotten his hopes up before, and it never worked in his favor.

When he finally did meet the other man, it was just after he’d helped Mrs. Saporta put the little ones to bed. They’d found out early on that the little ones absolutely adored him -for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp- and it was a huge help if he helped with them from time to time, as Mrs. Saporta was never running out of things to do, and was entirely too grateful whenever Pete helped out.

He steps quietly out of the children’s bedroom, only to be greeted by Mrs. Saporta in the hall.

“Oh there you are, are the children asleep?”

Pete nods. “Yes ma’am, fast asleep.”

“You’re such a great help Pete, I don’t know what I did before you came along.” Pete just shakes his head and smiles.

“I’m sure you were managing just fine, it’s no hardship at all.” She shakes her head, then waves him off.

“Whatever you say dear. Now, have you met Patrick yet?”

She keeps talking, but Pete isn’t listening. He swears he feels his heart stop, and the next thing he registers, is her asking him if he’d like to meet Patrick. He feels himself nodding before he can stop himself, and the next thing he knows, he’s standing in the kitchen, facing the first Patrick to look anything like the first one since the last time he was in England.

Belatedly, he realizes that Patrick is talking to him, and only catches the tail-end of his sentence.

“Oh-uh-I’m sorry, my head was somewhere else.” Patrick smiles at him, and reaches his hand out to shake.

“No no, it’s alright, I completely understand! My name is Patrick, and it’s taken far too long for us to meet, I hear you’re quite a hit with the little ones.” Pete smiles fondly at the mention of the children.

“They seem to have latched onto me yes, and I agree, I’ve been here almost five weeks and this is the first I’ve even seen you.” Patrick shrugs and looks abashed.

“I suppose I work a bit too much, but it keeps me busy, so I’ll take it.” He studies Pete for a moment, then gives him a quizzical look. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

Pete raises his eyebrows. “Um, no, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Well, I’ve had very little time to get to know you compared to everyone else here, so how about we go out for drinks? Get acquainted?” 

That sounds like a wonderfully painful idea, and Pete really, really shouldn’t, but Pete…..he can’t say no, can he? Because what if this is it? He can’t say no because what if this is the time he can finally be with Patrick? He can’t risk it. He just can’t.

If he’s being honest, even if he knew for sure it wouldn’t work, he still wouldn’t say no.

\-----

The next day finds them in a small bar not far from where they live, discussing everything and anything. It’s nice, and Pete aches, because he never realizes exactly how much he misses Patrick until the next time he meets him.

Patrick is talking about America. Once he heard Pete had never been there, and hadn’t really payed attention to know anything about it, he took it upon himself to give Pete a verbal tour of how the country is run.

“-and the current president’s name is John Quincy Adams, though his term is up next year.” Pete’s face scrunches up.

“So, each president gets four years in-what’s the word?”

“Office?”

“Yes! Office. Each president gets four years in office, then, then the entire country votes on who gets to be president next?” Patrick nods, looking amused at Pete’s excitement.

“Yes, exactly. It works just like in England, when people vote for their mayors.” Pete winces, and shakes his head.

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Patrick stares at him a moment, during which Pete begins to shift uneasily, then levels him with a look.

“You know, I can’t quite figure you out.” Pete gives him a confused look, and Patrick continues, “Well, one minute, you’re speaking very fluent Spanish, with a near perfect accent, then you say something else, and I swear I can hear a British accent.” He takes a drink, then points at Pete. “And this morning on the way here, you said something in Chinese!” Pete freezes momentarily, then shrugs, hoping it seems casual.

“I just travel a lot I suppose, so I know a lot of languages.” Patrick shakes his head.

“No, I travel a lot, and I know a lot of languages, but I don’t speak half of them as fluently as you do.” He smiles. “I won’t press though, you don’t seem like you want to talk about it.” Pete nods gratefully, and they’re silent. A few minutes later, Pete clears his throat.

“I-I am from England. Just. Just so you know.” Patrick studies him, before grinning.

“So we have a Brit here, eh?” Pete laughs.

“I suppose, though I haven’t been there since I was very young, so my understanding of anything politics related there is mediocre, at best.” Patrick nods understandingly.

“I see. I was born and raised in America, so I don’t know what that’s like. Where did you go after England then?” Pete shrugs.

“Germany, China, Egypt, I never really stayed in one place for very long.” Patrick nods slowly, then a look of confusion passes over his face.

“How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking of course.”

Pete groans internally. He hates this question, because he always has to lie. As much as it’s the truth, it’s still a lie.

“I’m twenty-four.” Patrick hums.

“So young, yet you’ve been so many places.”

“You have no idea Patrick, no idea.” 

Patrick huffs out a laugh, and they both take a drink, before moving on to lighter topics, which Pete is thankful for.

\-----

Over the course of the next couple years, Pete and Patrick get close. Patrick makes Pete laugh, and sometimes he almost forgets that he’s probably not going to get to be with this Patrick either.

Almost.

It hits him, at the worst possible moments, that this Patrick has a girl back home who he’s in love with, and will be going back to in a few years.

It hurts and it’s horrible, but Pete’s sick of running. He’s sick of finding out that he can’t be with Patrick, and running for the hills, because he misses Patrick. He misses how he laughs when Pete tells a bad joke, or how beautiful he is (no matter what he looks like, or where he’s from, or what language he speaks) when he’s playing his guitar.

He misses Patrick as a friend, as well as a lover.

So he stays.

He stays, and he relearns Patrick in ways he hasn’t bothered to look at in a while, because he already knew all the ways Patrick is beautiful.

Turns out, taking the time to focus every hundred years or so really changes your perspective.

Like Patrick’s sense of humor. It’s witty and dry, but never aimed to hurt anyone, and Pete has always admired that about him.

They take care of the little Saporta’s together, when they’re both home from work, and it’s not until two years in, that Pete realizes how amazing it is to watch the children grow with Patrick. 

They talk about music as they get closer -Pete’s payed attention to the music wherever he’s gone, so he’s got some different ideas-, and Patrick encourages Pete to write down his thoughts, and put them to music. After Pete tells him about a thought that’s been rattling around in his brain for a long time, Patrick looks at him, with a calculating look, and Pete thinks he’s going to say something, but instead, Patrick picks up his guitar, and puts Pete’s thoughts to his music.

Pete isn’t sure his words are anywhere near good enough to go with Patrick’s music though, so when Patrick asks Pete if he wants to make a regular thing out of it, he just shakes his head forcefully, and says ‘no’ emphatically in every language he knows, until Patrick begins to laugh. 

Thankfully, after that, Patrick drops it.

\-----

One day, in 1830 Patrick recieves a letter, telling him his fiancée, Lily’s father had been in an accident, and had passed away almost immediately after. Patrick locks himself in his bedroom after he reads it, and doesn’t come out until the next day.

The first person he goes to, much to Pete’s surprise, is Pete himself, and he hugs him for a good five minutes before finally pulling away. Pete gets him to sit on the edge of his bed, and when he takes in Patrick’s blotchy face, and lifeless eyes, he wishes with all his might that it was in his power to fix this.

After a few moments of silence, Patrick finally looks at Pete, and gives him a small smile. “I’m going to miss you Pete.” Pete smiles back at him, before looking down at his lap.

“I’ll miss you too Patrick, I’m sorry something like this happened.” Patrick sighs.

“Me too. I can’t believe it, he was such a strong man, I can’t imagine him-” Patrick breaks off, and Pete hears him suck in a shaky breath. He looks up at him, and his heart breaks when he sees the tears in his eyes.

“You-It seems like you were close to him?” Patrick nods, a fond look passing over his face.

“Yes. Lily and I, we grew up across the street from each other, and after my own father died, her father, Samuel, he sort of, well. He took me under his wing, and treated me like his own son.” He wipes at his eyes, and shakes his head. “When Lily and I got engaged he was overjoyed. I can’t believe he isn’t going to be at our wedding.”

They’re silent again, before Pete nudges Patrick’s shoulder with his own, and gives him a serious look. “You know he’s still going to be there though, right? I mean, I don’t know if you’re a religious man, I’m not, but. I think he’ll still be there, and I hope your wedding day is still a happy one, even if he isn’t there bodily.”

Patrick stares at Pete, silent, for a moment, then laughs quietly. “He will be, he wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He goes quiet again, then nudges Pete’s shoulder, mirroring Pete’s action. “And, thank you. You’re a great friend.”

Pete’s smile falters for a second, but then he forces it back on his face. “I’m glad you think so Patrick.”

“I really hope I get to see you again some day.”

 

“Aren’t you coming back?”

Patrick shakes his head sadly and sighs. “No, Lily’s parents never had any other children, and there’s no way I could support both Lily and her mother from here. And if I’m honest, I’ve already been here longer than planned.” Pete’s face falls again, and this time he doesn’t try to save it.

“Oh. Well-I’m going to miss you when you leave too.”

Patrick gives him a concerned look, and rubs his back. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I have every faith that we’ll cross paths again.” Pete laughs, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Y’know? I think you’re right. We’re definitely going to meet again.” Patrick looks slightly confused, but nods.

“Yes. We will Pete, I know it.”

They both go quiet, until there’s a soft knock at the door. Pete calls out ‘come in’, and Mrs. Saporta opens the door. When she sees Patrick, her face softens, and she looks relieved.

“There you are, I seen your door was open and I was worried.” Patrick smiles at her.

“I’m alright, just came in to talk to Pete.” Mrs. Saporta smiles, and opens the door wider.

“Well, I hope the both of you are done, because I have food ready, and you-” she points at Patrick, “-need to eat. I won’t have you starving before you go home to your fiancée.” Patrick and Pete both laugh, and she smiles again before leaving.

After she’s gone, Pete looks at Patrick and gives him a small -but genuine- smile. “Looks like your hiding days are over.” Patrick lets out a laugh.

“It would seem so.” They go quiet for a moment, and then Patrick sighs. “I suppose I should go get cleaned up. There’s a lot I need to do before I leave.” Pete feels his heart sink, but he keeps the smile on his face, and nods.

Patrick stares at him for a beat, and then he turns, and just like that, Pete’s lost him.

Again.

\-----

It takes several months for Patrick to finally be able to leave, so by the time he has everything ready, and leaves, it’s 1831, and Pete is lost.

Having so much time knowing that Patrick was leaving, yet not leaving _first_ , was torture, yet Pete still tried to make the best of it. He made damn sure he got his fill of Patrick, because who knew when the hell he’d get to see him next.

It could be a month, it could be a year, and it could be thirty years.

Pete didn’t want to risk this time with Patrick, as much as he had the last few times, and it was wearing on him.

He tried, _so hard_ to keep things in a positive light. Because yes Patrick was leaving again, and no he couldn’t kiss him, but Patrick was still his friend, and he did love him. Just. Not the way Pete loved him.

After Patrick left, Pete stuck around for another few years. As much as he’d stayed for Patrick, the Saporta’s had become family to him, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave quite yet. So he bought himself his own place to live near the Saporta’s.

It payed off, because their oldest son got married, and for some reason, he asked Pete to be in his wedding. It was a bright spot of light in Pete’s life, along with when it was announced his wife was pregnant with their first child barely a year later.

Sadly, after another ten years, Pete’s inability to age was becoming apparent, and leaving became inevitable.

It was difficult, but finally, after two years of putting it off, Pete left the town, and along with it, the Saporta family, and headed back to Brazil.

\-----

Upon arriving in Brazil, he realizes that even though it’s only been sixteen or so years since he’s been there, plenty has changed.

As he’s learned over the years, change is good, and he accepts it readily. He doesn’t really stay in one place very long, the longest he stays is only for a month, but otherwise, he just travels.

He doesn’t want to settle down yet, because for some reason everytime he settles down, he makes connections, and that’s _bad_. It’s bad, because then he has to leave, and he doesn’t think his heart can handle that again quite yet.

When this whole thing started, he’d counted on losing Patrick over and over, but he hadn’t counted on losing family over and over as well.

After a few years in Brazil, he hears a bunch of people talking about traveling up to Venezuela, and figures, why not? He helps them get everything figured out, and with a group of about ten people, he gets to Venezuela in 1847.

He stays there for a year, then he finds his way to Saint Lucia, then Puerto Rico. From there, he ends up in Cuba, and then, in 1859, he finds himself in Florida.

\-----

The United States are different than he imagined them being.

For one, he’s lived places for the last couple hundred years where people don’t generally speak English, and after a couple days back amongst people speaking it, it becomes apparent he’s not as fluent in his first language as he’d assumed he still was.

After about three hundred years, people have different ways of speaking as well, and it takes him nearly a month before he can fully grasp what different terms mean. For instance, money is sometimes referred to as ‘dough’, children are ankle-biters, and according to a group of arguing children whose game he’d accidentally ruined, he’s a wet blanket?

America is odd.

He doesn’t stay in Florida longer than two weeks, and instead decides to travel throughout the US, just like he did everywhere else. He goes North towards New York first, then stays in Ohio for a bit, then Illinois. He takes a particular liking to Chicago, and stays there for almost a month, before he’s on his way again, this time to Missouri.

After Missouri, he goes into what he’s told is Kansas Territory, and then Iowa, then Minnesota, and Wisconsin.

While he travels, it becomes clearer and clearer that there’s a general uneasiness surrounding the country as a whole, as there’s talk of war nearly everywhere he goes. He decides early on that he’s going to stay out of it though, and instead focuses on his traveling.

After a couple months spent in the Northern states, he decides it’s too damn _cold_. He’s lived in South America, and Egypt for too long, and he’s not equipped for the weather.

So, he goes South. Arkansas is better, and about the time he gets there, in 1861, is when war breaks out.

\-----

After about a year of avoiding the war, and generally just laying low, he decides to fight.

He’s fairly certain he can’t die from being shot, and even if he _could_ , he’s sure he wouldn’t be much of a loss anyway, so, one day he makes his decision, and the next, he’s a Confederate soldier.

Looking back, Pete knows he had his reasons for the side he took, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate himself a little for it.

At the time, the South seemed like the side to be on.

Slavery was something he had grown up with, before he quit aging, and even after. His family had owned slaves, and aside from how they were treated by some people, he didn’t see anything _wrong_ with it, and he didn’t understand why people were making such a big deal out of it. Besides, he’d lived up North for a while, and it’s not like they didn’t have slaves too.

So, from 1862 to 1863, he was a Confederate soldier.

Then, as fate would have it, he meets Patrick.

He’d been working with a group of five other soldiers; tracking and bringing back a group of slaves that had escaped their owners plantation nearly a month before with the help of the damned underground railroad, and they’d just received word that they were forty miles before the border of Kentucky and Ohio.

It was more difficult than it should have been to track them, which led them to believe they’d found the person that had allegedly helped more than two hundred slaves escape since the war began.

Usually, when they found someone who’d been working with the underground railroad, they either brought them in to be jailed, or if they put up a fight, killed them.

This person -and their friends- put up a fight, and before Pete finally got a good look at him, three of the men Pete had been with were killed, one was injured, and one had disappeared. Pete himself had been injured, and even though he knew it couldn’t kill him, it hurt like a _bitch_.

When a dark shadow appeared above him, he expected to be shot in the head, and have to play dead until the slaves had moved on. Instead, he was lifted into the air, and moved. He doesn’t remember what happened after that, because the pain got so intense, he lost consciousness.

\-----

When he finally regained consciousness, he expected to still be laying in a field somewhere.

Instead, he was on something softer than the ground, and he could hear voices. After a few minutes of listening, was able to make out three separate voices, seemingly arguing if the raised voices were anything to go by.

One was male, one female, and the other was….. _Patrick_.

His heart rate sped up, and before he could really think about what he was doing, he was trying to sit upright. A searing pain jolted through him, and a pained cry left him. His vision blurred for a moment, and when it came back to him, Patrick was standing to his left, and trying to get him to calm down.

After several minutes, he’s lying back again, and the pain has subsided. Patrick and the woman he had heard speaking before are cleaning the gunshot wound in Pete’s right shoulder. According to the woman -who’s one of the slaves Pete and the others had been chasing down- he’s lucky, because it was a clean shot and had gone straight through, but wasn’t deep enough for him to bleed out, though he did lose a substantial amount of blood.

After a while, he discovers the woman who stitched up his shoulder’s name is Josie -that’s what Patrick called her anyway- and Patrick is helping her, her husband, and their three children escape.

That comes as a surprise to Pete, because he had no idea the slaves he’d been chasing had been a family. He hadn’t even known the woman _had_ children.

That’s the first time Pete begins to question things.

\-----

Unexpectedly, Patrick and his group decide to wait with Pete until he’s able to walk, so they can take him with and find a hospital for him to stay in. Pete doesn’t understand why they don’t just leave him, but when he asks Josie’s husband -Eddie- why they don’t just leave him, he tells him to count his blessings, and leaves it at that.

Pete grudgingly takes his advice, and doesn't bring it up again. He’s still a little perplexed as to why someone working with the underground railroad would keep a _confederate soldier_ with him and his escapees, but then he thinks about it a little and….it’s Patrick. If any version of Patrick ever left someone behind, then Pete’s fairly certain that would mean the world was ending.

They rest for three days -even though Pete had insisted on the second that he was _fine_ \- before finally packing up to leave. Unlike when Pete and the others had found them, this time they set off as soon as the sun sets.

Walking is boring at first. No one really talks, and Pete lasts four hours before he decides he’s not standing for it. He strikes up a conversation with the oldest of the children -Maddy-, and after she’s warmed up to him, he’s golden. The other two children are quick to follow their sister’s judgement, and pretty soon he’s got three new best friends.

Over the next few days, everyone breathes and speaks easier around Pete. It’s refreshing, because he’s able to joke around like his nature propels him to, and no one brushes him off, or seems uncomfortable. 

He’d be insulted, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s one of the very people they were running from. As the hours wear on, everyone tires, and they get quiet again, giving him a lot of time to reflect. The more he does, the more he has trouble justifying exactly why he chose the side he did.

Listening to Josie and Eddie talk, it’s easy to see they weren’t treated like any of the workers Pete had known. They’d been treated like _animals_ , and Pete couldn’t…..he couldn’t sleep well knowing he’d helped keep them -and others like them- in that situation.

His introspection gets to the point where he’s so quiet, and shaken, that a few days into walking, and about an hour into trying to rest, Patrick comes and sits by him next to the small fire they’ve got going. They sit in silence for several minutes, before Patrick clears his throat.

“So, I’ve noticed you’ve complained less the last day or so.”

Pete gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and shrugs. “Just tired, and this-” he gestures towards his injured arm. “-is giving me pains.”

Patrick hums, and nods, smiling mockingly. “Right. But two days ago you hurting was a reason to complain loudly about every step you took. Lord knows how you became a soldier.”

Pete blinks. This Patrick didn’t strike him as the type to be sarcastic. His cheeks heat, and he laughs quietly. “Well. Yeah you’ve….got a point.” Patrick lets out a huff.

“I do. And I _know_ there’s something going on. You haven’t been this quiet since you were passed out from blood loss.”

Breathing out a quiet laugh, Pete slumps. “I’ve just been...thinking.”

Patrick studies him with a slight smile on his face. “That’s a dangerous pastime.”

“Tell me about it.”

They go quiet again, before Pete speaks up again. “I’m kind of questioning my morals I guess.” Patrick nods, as if encouraging him to continue, and Pete sighs. “I just never realized people could be so _awful_ to other people, without having a guilty conscience. And now that I’ve met Josie and Eddie and the kids, I’m disgusted with myself for ever thinking any of this was okay.”

Patrick looks surprised for a moment, before nodding, a small smile on his face. “I’m not disgusted with you.” Pete gives him a wary look.

“Why not? You should be. I was fighting, _willingly_ , to keep people as the property of other people.”

“You _were_ , Pete. Now, it sounds like you’re rethinking that, and that’s enough for me to not be disgusted with you.”

Pete goes quiet, and picks up a stick to start poking at the fire. After an indeterminable amount of time, he finally looks up at Patrick again.

“I don’t want to be a bad person ‘Trick.”

He has no idea why he lets the nickname slip. He hasn’t used it in years, and he’s nowhere near close enough to this Patrick to be using it comfortably, but.

Patrick looks surprised, but he seems to brush it off, and instead reaches a hand out and rests it on Pete’s shoulder.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person Pete, I just think you’re….” He pauses, and squeezes Pete’s shoulder softly before dropping his hand again. “I think you’re a little lost, that’s all.” Pete gives him a confused look, and Patrick shrugs. “You need to figure out what you believe, and follow it. Find something you stand for.” He gestures towards where the family is sleeping. “Like me, I found what I stand for and it’s helping them, and families like them, actually find a way to have a shot at a life that’s not miserable. You need something to fight for, and until you find that you’ll just continue to make decisions you don’t want to, and end up destroying yourself.”

He shrugs when he finishes, his cheeks beginning to redden when Pete just stares at him with just a tiny amount of awe.

“What? It-it makes sense.” Pete laughs quietly, and shakes his head as he turns back to look at the fire.

“No it does, you’re…” He brings a hand up and rubs his face. “You’re completely right I’m just…..” He trails off, and Patrick laughs too as he reaches over and pats Pete on the back.

“Yeah, I get it. You’ll get there someday though.” He lets his hand drop from Pete’s shoulder again, and they sit in silence a few more minutes, before finally trying to get some sleep.

\-----

The rest of their journey passes without incident, and a few days later, Josie, Eddie, and their children are safely with a friend of Patrick’s that lives across the border, who will help them start their new life. Pete’s sad to see the kids go, but the happy, light feeling he gets from seeing the smiles on their faces is enough to keep him going for another two days.

Patrick convinces him to go to a hospital to get his shoulder looked at. Pete hadn’t wanted to; he was half afraid Patrick would just _leave_ while he was in there, but Patrick looks ready to wrestle him into going if he doesn’t go willingly, so he goes. Thankfully, Josie did a good job, and there’s no infection to worry about. He’s out of the hospital less than twelve hours after he went in, and nearly races to the inn he and Patrick had been staying at.

Upon arriving, he’s more than a little shocked that Patrick’s still there, looking more relaxed than Pete’s ever seen this version of him. When he sees Pete’s surprised face, he laughs a little, but instead of acknowledging Pete’s insecurities , he invites Pete for a drink, and that’s that.

\-----

After that, they continue helping people escape. Between Patrick’s experience, and some new ideas Pete brings to the table, they manage to help over one hundred people escape. Neither of them really try to keep track -it’s not about the numbers to them- but after bringing a family consisting of six children to Patrick’s friend, he tells them.

At first neither of them believe him, but a couple hours of counting later, they have to admit he’s correct.

Pete can’t believe it. Barely a year ago he was running around helping keep these people enslaved, and now he’s helped over _a hundred_. He can tell Patrick’s thinking the same thing, but neither of them says it.

Instead, they celebrate by staying up late and drinking in the bar across from Patrick’s friends inn. Around midnight, and several drinks, the friendly smiles they normally share have turned into open staring, and obvious want. 

Around one, the usual brief touches, like hands brushing arms, and waists, have turned into lingering brushes of hands, and heads tucked into necks.

Around three in the morning, they wind up back in their shared room. They normally take turns sleeping on the bed, but thanks to alcohol, a night filled with teasing and hungry stares, and a shared feeling of pride, they go to bed together.

The rest of the night is sweaty skin, hushed moans and whimpers, and reverent touches. Something Pete’s begun to realize, is no matter what version of Patrick it is, he’ll always bend to his will, and Patrick will _always_ treat him like something to be treasured.

It brings tears to his eyes when he realizes it, but for once they’re happy tears, and he makes sure to cling tighter to Patrick that night.

\-----

The year 1864 ends with Patrick and Pete helping another family.

They ring in the new year by stealing a kiss when they see fireworks going off in the distance, and by the third of January in 1865, they’ve brought another family safely across the border.

Things are looking good; there’s talk of the war ending soon, and Patrick has started talking about bringing Pete with him back to South Dakota to meet his family when everything has ended. They’re _happy_ , is the point, and Pete’s to the point where he’s let his guard drop. He’s not worried about what could possibly happen this time, and he’s finally _living_.

\-----

In April of 1865, they (and a couple of friends) are helping a group of thirteen escape. Their previous owner had just died, and seeing as his son would take at least two weeks to reach the plantation, it’s the perfect time to get them out.

The only problem was, no one had known about the neighbor that had offered to keep watch over the plantation until the son arrived.

Things had gone well, at first. Then out of nowhere, there are lights, and shouting, and _barking_.

Everything goes south from there.

Or. Okay, everyone manages to get away, they somehow lose the dogs, and the shooting stops after ten minutes, and things seem to be _fine_. Then, around three hours of running later, Patrick collapses.

There’s no warning; no clutching at his side, no weird breathing. Just, one minute he’s moving with the rest of them -though when Pete thinks back on it, he _was_ lagging behind, something he never does-, and the next he’s fallen to the ground, and even in the dark, all Pete can see is _blood_.

Patrick’s face has gone pale, he seems to be barely breathing, and time seems to have slown down. All Pete can seem to think is _not this not now not again_.

It takes him a moment, and then he’s kneeling at Patrick’s side, and pulling his shirt and jacket up so he can see what _happened_.

It’s worse than he’d thought it would be. Way worse.

He was shot in not two, but _three_ different places; one just above his heart, one below his ribcage, and one in his left shoulder. The only bullet that’s gone completely through is the one in his shoulder, and Pete _knows_ , if they were closer to a doctor, or even an army camp, he’d have at least a slim chance.

But they’re over two hours away from even getting help from the people who shot Patrick in the first place, and the next town would take at least twenty four hours to reach.

Pete tries to catch his breath -when had he started panting?- and he pushes Patrick’s shirt back down again, then looks up at Patrick. His hat is lying next to his head, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his face, and his eyes are closed. Pete clutches at his hand, and starts talking, because when he doesn’t know what to do, he talks.

“Hey, Patrick come on, can you look at me? You’re okay, there’s nothing-you’re gonna be fine and we’ll-”

Then Patrick opens his eyes, and Pete knows he’s going to lose him again.

Patrick gives him a small smile, and it’s a little heartbroken, but mostly _sorry_ , and Pete just. 

He feels calm.

He takes a deep breath and he looks up at the others, who have been standing there silently the entire time, and finds Marcus, one of the friends who had been helping them. He has tears in his eyes and it’s then that it hits Pete how much he’s not the only one affected by this shit.

After a moment of silence, he feels Patrick squeeze his hand, and he swallows, nodding slightly.

“You guys should go.”

Marcus looks hesitant, and the others all look uneasy, and Pete knows they don’t want to stay, they’re probably uneasy still being so close to where they’re running from, and he tries to look convincing.

“You have to Mark, they’re gonna come eventually, and we can’t let them find these people.” Marcus still looks hesitant, but then Patrick speaks up, his voice weak, and Pete really wishes he wouldn’t try to talk.

“Just go Mark, we’ll be fine.”

“Patrick I don’t-”

“Go.”

His voice is stern, and Pete doesn’t miss how he winces from speaking so loudly, but it works, because Marcus nods, looking defeated. 

“Fine. Fine we’ll-we’ll go.” He looks at Pete again, and Pete nods at him.

“It’s fine, just go. We’ll-” He looks at Patrick, who’s got his eyes closed again and is breathing shallowly, and he swallows, then looks back up at Marcus. “I-I’ll catch up.” He nods again, once, then a few minutes later, everyone’s gone.

When Pete looks back at Patrick, he’s somehow gotten paler, and his grip on Pete’s hand has weakened to the point where if Pete were to let go, it’d drop.

Of all the times Pete’s had to lose Patrick, he’s never had to _watch_. Not like this. There’d been the one time, all those years ago in England, but that Patrick had been old, and ready to go.

This Patrick, this one who loves him and wanted to introduce him to his _parents_ , is barely thirty, and this just isn’t _fair_. He can feel the tears finally working their way out, and he reaches a hand out to run it through Patrick’s hair. When he does, Patrick forces his eyes open again, just barely, yet he still manages to smile.

“Pete, hey, don’t- _ah_.” He stops, a grimace on his face, before the pain seems to momentarily pass, and he’s able to open his eyes again. “Don’t cry, it’s not-it’s okay.” Pete shakes his head.

“‘Trick….”

Patrick squeezes at his hand. “It _is_. I...I kind of. I expected this to happen. Been waiting for something like this to happen. I’ve always been ready for it love.”

Pete doesn't reply, just nods and squeezes Patrick’s hand back. He stays kneeling by Patrick’s side for several minutes, before shifting. He sits up against a tree, so he can lift Patrick’s head up into his lap. He’ll be damned if Patrick’s in any way uncomfortable.

Pete doesn’t know what he’s going to _do_ really, besides keep Patrick comfortable until.

He can’t finish the thought, and just focuses on keeping Patrick comfortable, until Patrick blinks slowly up at him, and asks him to talk. When Pete just looks lost, Patrick smiles weakly, and says “tell me about you.”

So Pete does. He tells him about England, and Egypt, Germany, and Brazil. He gets lost in his own story, and it’s not until he gets to Uruguay, that he realizes Patrick’s gone completely still.

When Pete realizes he’s gone, he takes a deep, shuddery breath, and leans his head back against the tree. The sun is just starting to come up, and the sweat and blood covering Patrick’s hands and seeping through his shirt is easier to see now. He’s beautiful, and nothing will ever change that, but Pete wishes it was dark again.

\-----

Pete would have gladly stayed with Patrick until he himself withered away to nothing, but Marcus had apparently told the sheriff of the nearest town that something had happened, so he and some deputies, as well as a doctor -Pete almost wants to hate the doctor for being _late_ , however irrational it is- arrive around sundown.

The pitying looks he could deal with, as well as the complete strangers wanting to comfort him. What he didn’t want to deal with, was Patrick’s brother being one of the deputies. Pete had never met any of Patrick’s family before, but that….that was not how it was supposed to go.

By the time the day is over, Pete’s exhausted, and wants to sleep for about a hundred years. He considers doing it, because he probably _could_ , seeing as he can’t die, but he pushes the thought away, because that’s something to think about some other time.

A few days after Patrick’s family comes from South Dakota for his funeral -they were going to have Patrick’s body taken back home, but his parents had insisted they bury him where he’d been happiest- they get the news that Abraham Lincoln was shot and killed.

It’s awful, and absolutely disgusting of Pete to think this way, but he’s glad in a morbid way, because now the whole country is in mourning, instead of just him.

\-----

The war officially ends a month later.

When Pete gets the news, he’s downstairs in Patrick’s friends inn, and picking at his lunch. Then there’s noise from outside, that steadily gets louder until some rowdy, already half drunk people stumble into the inn and give everyone near enough to hear the news.

Everyone else cheers, and Pete pushes his plate away before heading upstairs to his room.

\-----

A few days later, once the celebrations have settled down, Pete packs up and leaves.

Henry, the owner of the inn, is sad to see him go, and even offers him a job if he’ll stay, but Pete declines. As much as he loves the place -because Patrick did- he _has_ to leave. Even if he did want to stay, he’d have to leave eventually anyway, because without Patrick, he won’t age.

That settles it for him, so after some teary goodbyes, he’s once again on his way.

\-----

He stays in the US another seven years, long enough to visit Patrick’s family a few times -even though it’s painful as hell, he knows he’s the closest thing to Patrick they’ve still got, and they appreciate him visiting- and visit the West coast a bit.

In 1872, he goes to France.

For the first time in a while, he’s somewhere where he doesn’t speak the language, know the culture, or have any experience living there. It’s nice, in a way, because he’s able to focus completely on learning French, and how to live there.

Eventually, in 1873, he settles down in Nice. He finds a job in a bakery, and he essentially devotes his life to it. He’s never really had to _bake_ before; at least, not well, and definitely not in the style he has to learn.

Working at the bakery is great, and it changes owners enough that he’s able to stay sixteen years before he finally gets the itch to move again.

In 1889 he leaves Nice, but he doesn’t go far, and lives in a village just on the outskirts instead. He stays there for four years, but France just isn’t appealing to him anymore, so one night, near the end of 1893, he makes a split decision, and figures, why not Austria?

\-----

He reaches Austria in February of 1894, and immediately feels more than a little lost.

He knows German, but it’s a little rusty, and the dialect is different, so that’s one factor. Another factor, is Patrick.

It’s always Patrick.

This time, Patrick is the owner of a music shop, just around the corner from the boarding house Pete is staying in.

Seeing Patrick’s face again, not bloodied or pale or _lifeless_ , is an immense relief, and Pete almost cries, right there in the middle of a bunch of pianos, guitars, accordions, and other instruments. He doesn’t though, he restrains himself, and instead just smiles.

Knowing that version of Patrick is short-lived, as he leaves Austria to go back home to Germany a year later. It’s okay though, because while their friendship was short, and was just a friendship, Pete’s heart feels lighter, and he’s happier than he has been on his own in a while.

After another seven years in Austria, and experiencing his third turn of a century, Pete goes to New Zealand.

New Zealand is fun, and he discovers that all the rumors about sheep? They’re absolutely correct. He spends his time just enjoying life. He has a couple of friends who help him start enjoying life again, and by the end of the nineteen years he spends there, he’s happy, and at peace.

In 1920 he goes to England after New Zealand. It’s changed, a _lot_ , and it feels weird being amongst people with the accents close to what he’d grown up with, though he notices there’s a lot more different dialects than there were the last time he was there.

He avoids it the first fifteen or so years he’s there, but eventually, in 1935, he goes home.

His family’s estate is still there, but it’s been refurbished, and added onto, and some of the old sections have been taken down completely. It’s different, but it’s still _home_ , and it takes him a moment to remember that different people live there now, and it’s not his anymore.

He leaves, after just looking at it for a while, and goes to the nearest village, which turns out to be of the same name it was when he lived there, but _much_ larger. Then, a couple months later, he finds out -from the brother of the bartender’s wife’s cousin...or something like that- that the current occupants of the place, are the Kingsleys.

Pete almost spits out his drink when he hears, and has to ask if the person he’s talking to is absolutely _certain_ that’s their name. When it’s all confirmed that yes, the estate belongs to Frederick and Vivian Kingsley, and they’re descendants of Pete’s brother, it’s bittersweet.

Part of him wants to visit, to see his _relation_ , but….he can’t bring himself to.

He doesn’t know how he’d explain why he’s there, and he doesn’t know if any pictures of his family survived the last few hundred years, so in the end he contents himself with the knowledge that his childhood home is still in the family, and that they seem like good people. They’re talked about a lot, and everyone seems to think highly of them, since no one really calls them the Kingsleys, just calls them by their first names.

They have three children too, and Pete’s happy knowing someone is alive that’s related to him. He feels less alone, somehow, even if they have no idea he exists.

He stays in England another twelve years, just traveling here and there, and enjoying being home. In 1946, he meets a woman named Lizzy at a train station. She introduces herself as “Liz, if you call me Lizzy I’ll hit you”, and he’s immediately endeared.

It turns out, they’re both wandering, and after a long discussion that lasts well into the night on their trip, they decide to travel together. Just like that.

They make good companions, as they both get the itch to _go_ before long, and they’re both loud once they’re comfortable with each other. Before they know it, they’re best friends -Pete’s closer to her than he’s been with someone _not_ Patrick since Saul- and in 1947, they make a split decision, and get on a boat going to Ireland.

\-----

On their first night out in Ireland, they get drunk.

Not ‘giggly, happy, fun times’ drunk.

They get _drunk_. So drunk, they wake up in a motel room that’s not theirs, with three other people, and wearing clothes they had never seen before in their entire life. Luckily, neither of them acquire much of a hangover beyond throwing up a couple times, and a minor headache on Pete’s part, so they spend the day out walking and exploring.

They’re told several times to enjoy the strangely warm weather, Liz manages to make a few people laugh with her horrible impression of an Irish accent, and they visit enough pubs that by the end of the day when they _finally_ manage to get back to their own motel, they’re both pleasantly buzzed again.

They wind up talking again. Liz tells him about her family; how they wanted her to stop travelling -because her being twenty-six and still traveling was beginning to worry them-, and how she couldn’t stand how she was treated back home. Pete, in turn, told her about how he was originally from England, but also travelled a lot. She eventually asked about his family, and he was glad he didn’t have to lie when he told her they were gone.

They finally turned in for the night -morning- around four.

Over the course of the next three years, they make their way around Ireland. Things are a little tense, as things were everywhere thanks to the cold war, but they mostly manage to ignore it, and enjoy themselves.

Sometime around 1949, they’re up late again, when Pete lets something about Patrick slip. It’s nothing much, just Pete talking about something he and Patrick had done when they were around thirteen years old, but she’s incredibly perceptive, and she must notice the fond note in his voice.

“Who’s Patrick?”

Pete feels his cheeks heat, but he tries to seem nonchalant when he shrugs. “He was a friend of mine. We grew up together.” He tries to steer the conversation away from Patrick, but LIz doesn’t let him.

“Well what happened to him? Why aren’t you friends anymore?” Pete sighs, and gives her a pleading look. She just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Come on Liz, it’s not-he’s not _important_.”

She squints her eyes at him, and turns so she can face him better. “Peter.”

He raises an eyebrow back at her. “Lizzy.”

They glare at each other for a few moments, before they both break out into giggles. Once their laughter recedes, Pete sighs. “Patrick and I were...close.”

He pauses, and stares at her for a few seconds, before her face lights up in realization. “ _Oh_. So you were lovers?”

Pete feels his face turn red; he knows Liz is okay with it -better about it than most people these days, it makes him miss Egypt- but he’s not used to being so _blatant_ about it.

“Yeah-Yes. We were, uh, _lovers_.” She smiles at him, encouraging him to go on, and he nods. “So. Yeah we were close for, years you know? Were just, friends. Then we just, we kind of-neither of us were getting doll dizzy when other kids we knew were, and when we were sixteen it just-we figured it out from there.”

He shrugs, and Liz stares at him for a moment, before gesturing with her hands. “ _And_???” He shrugs again, and gives her a confused look. She huffs. “Well? What _happened_? Did you, did anything else happen? You were sixteen, then what?”

“Nothing really-”

“Bullshit.” Pete blinks at her. 

“We really shouldn’t have spent that week with those American soldiers.”

Liz smirks, then glares again. “Come _on_ Pete, what happened?”

Pete slumps, and stares down at his hands. “He got married Liz.”

“Oh.”

He shrugs again and gives her a small smile. “It was a long time ago, and we weren’t in a position to be together anyway, it’s alright.”

Liz smiles back. “Well, you’ll find a nice guy to be with again, you’re too cute to go unattached for too long.” Pete laughs, and shakes his head.

“Okay, you’re delirious from lack of sleep.” She cocks her head and raises her eyebrows.

“Nope. You’re attractive as all get out Pete, just face it.”

He shakes his head, and climbs off her bed to crawl into his own. “Good _night_ Liz.” She giggles, then shuts off her lamp before getting settled into her own bed.

“Goodnight Peter, love you.”

Pete smiles. “Love you too Lizzy.”

\-----

After a little while longer of being in Ireland, they both decide they want to go somewhere else.

Pete’s talked about Egypt a lot, enough that Liz knows he misses it, and she’s become curious about it, so in 1951 that’s where they go.

\-----

Egypt is a lot like Pete remembers. Of course, there’s more people, more buildings, and like the rest of the world, more modern, but for the most part, it’s familiar.

Arabic slips easily off his tongue -of all the languages he knows, it’s by far his favorite- and it’s so _easy_ to settle in. Liz seems to love it too, and Pete’s elated.

Turns out, they both love Egypt so much, that after a year and a half of being there, they decide they want to make it semi-permanent, and they buy themselves a small house just on the outskirts of a village. It’s a tranquil place, with nice weather, and nice people.

It’s only after they’re there nearly two years, that Pete finally looks at Liz, and realizes that she’s aging. It’s 1953, she’s nearly thirty four, and she’s begun to age without Pete. He figures he’ll just leave it, until she notices, but she notices barely a month later on her birthday.

She’s busy laughing, about the wrinkles that have started to form by her eyes, and the fact that she can’t stay up until two in the morning anymore, when she turns and looks at Pete and says “But you haven’t aged a _day_ since I met you Petey! How the hell do you rate?” He laughs it off in that moment, but he thinks about it, like _really_ thinks about it, and realizes he doesn’t want to leave her yet.

Liz is….she’s his best friend. He loves her more than he loved his own sister probably, and as much as he knows he _should_ , he can’t bear himself to leave her.

So he tells her. Everything. About Patrick, and the potion, and all the deaths he’s seen. She doesn’t believe him at first of course, just laughs and tells him to stop being an _idiot_. Then he pulls out all the money he’s gathered over the years; from France, Brazil, and old England. Some of it is stuff she knows he wouldn’t have been able to acquire without having been there, and it’s only her own stubbornness that keeps her from passing out in shock.

Of course, she has a lot of questions. Can he die from a gunshot? Or being stabbed? Has he met any famous historical figures? Exactly how many languages can he speak? After she seems to have exhausted her questions, she admits it makes _sense_ , because he still looks like he’s in his early twenties, and he doesn’t always seem to have the correct grasp on modern slang.

Then, she asks how Pete’s _sane_ , after losing so many people. He knows she feels sorry for him, but he doesn’t -can’t and won’t- let her. He did this to himself, and he doesn’t want her pitying him for it.

It’s freeing, having someone _know_ , and he feels good because he doesn’t have to just leave her. She makes it clear that she understands he won’t be able to stick around forever, because of locals and his own flightiness, and he can tell she’s fine with it, as much as she’ll miss him when the day finally comes.

\-----

It’s in 1957, that Liz meets Farah and Andro. They’re a couple, and they’ve been married for almost six years, but once they meet Liz, they both fall in love with her. She returns the feelings, confusedly, and after a year of Pete spending a _lot_ of late nights trying to reassure Liz that ‘ _it’s okay, believe me, I’ve met a lot of people who are in love with more than one person_ ’, she moves in with them.

Nothing can be made official _legally_ , especially during those times, considering everyone’s much less relaxed than they were the last time Pete was in Egypt, but Liz has never lived by anyone else’s rules anyway, as long as she’s happy. Pete’s happy for her, and a couple years later, in 1959, he’s at peace with his decision to leave.

She doesn’t let him leave until _after_ she has her baby -a tiny little girl she names Talulah-, and _after_ he promises to write her at least twice a month, along with phone calls whenever he can find the time. Phones are still a mystery to him, and he’s half convinced they’re some sort of magic yet, but he promises anyway, because he’d do anything for his dear Liz.

That’s also the year he flies on his first airplane. It’s something he’s avoided since it became possible -heights aren’t exactly his _thing_ -, but it seems much faster than a boat would be, and well, what’s the point in being immortal if he doesn’t try risky things now and then?

\-----

He lands safely in Chicago, and the first thing he does, after getting a hotel room, is try the pizza. He’s heard many things about Chicago pizza, but since he hasn’t been to the US since the Civil War, he hasn’t had a chance to try it.

It’s a winner in his book, and he has it for dinner at least twice a week from then on. 

From there, he decides he likes Chicago, and sticks around. Eventually, around a month later, he gets bored, and tries to get a job. Turns out, getting a job in the US in 1959 isn’t as easy as it used to be, and he needs an actual _identity_ before they can hire him.

His story, is that he’s from Africa (no one actually bothers to learn _where_ in Africa, which is just plain foolish in his mind) and he’d just never had to get papers or documents formed there. It’s easy enough to get documents made up, and before he knows it, he’s officially Peter Kingston. 

So, as Peter Kingston, he gets a job, at a bar, and then a couple months later, an apartment, and then a month after that, he gets a driver's license. It’s new, domestic, and exciting enough that he always has something to tell Liz about when they talk on the phone, and really, he loves it.

\-----

In 1961, the US sends its first troops over to Vietnam.

No one’s happy about it, the general public are _not_ for getting involved in the conflict, and Pete definitely is part of that. It’s not really a _problem_ , until 1963, when they want to send more troops in, but no one’s volunteering.

Instead of taking the hint, the government starts drafting.

Before, that wouldn’t have really been something Pete was concerned with. But, before, he’d never been an official US citizen either. Two weeks into people getting drafted, it’s Pete’s turn. When he gets the letter, he’s neither surprised, or happy.

He’s being uprooted again, for something he didn’t even want to do again. After the last time he’d fought in a war, it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat.

There’s nothing he can do though, so with a sigh, he starts packing up his life, and once again, gets ready to leave.

\-----

A few years later, in 1966, Pete’s considering himself lucky. He’s part of the army, instead of the navy, and instead of being in the front lines, he’s moving cargo. It’s not bad; just hot, and with the occasional land mine. He reminds himself constantly that it could be worse -Patrick could be there- and for the most part he keeps himself from being too upset about things.

Most of the friends that he’s made don’t have it so lucky. There’s a group of about a hundred of them moving things in their big, armored trucks at a time, and they’re all close enough after a couple months that Pete knows all their stories. Most of them are newly weds, and some of them even have kids back home.

One of the guys he’s closest to, Gerald, has a girlfriend back home in Minnesota, who -as long as he _gets_ back home- he’s going to ask to marry. She’s pretty, with brown-red hair that reminds Pete so much of Patrick’s he’s almost jealous. Then he reminds himself that _no_ , now is not the time to want Patrick there.

Things are pretty uneventful for the most part, any landmines anyone hits are usually heard about a month after it happens, because it was another group it happened to. A couple of guys get heat stroke at some point, but with living in so many different places with hot weather, Pete has some ideas, and they quickly learn how to avoid that. They do get ambushed a few times, but it’s usually nothing they can’t handle, thank _god_.

It’s around the end of that year, that things go _bad_. They’re about three days away from the camp that they’re delivering things to -ammo, food, care packages- when it happens.

The truck Pete’s in -with two other guys- drives over a landmine. It all happens so fast, one minute they’re laughing about the most recent, _raunchy_ letter one man had gotten from his wife, and the next, everything’s up in flames.

All Pete can remember thinking is “what the fuck, am I dying?”, and that’s it.

When he wakes up, it’s dark out, he’s laying in the grass, and he _hurts_. He’s not sure how long he lays there, waiting for the pain to subside, but by the time he’s able to move enough to sit up, he can see the first rays of sunlight from just below the trees in the distance, and then he sees the truck.

It’s completely destroyed. Obviously the other men had managed to get the fire out, and then left. He doesn’t dare to hope that they got any of the other guys out, because he’s not an idiot.

When he’s finally able to look at his own body, it’s unmarked, his clothes are still intact, and it’s then that he _really_ realizes how immortal he actually is. Before this moment, he’s never been in a position where he _should_ have died, and it’s a bit of an eye opener, to say the least.

After what’s most likely another hour, he can finally move without wanting to throw up or fall over, and it’s then that he realizes he doesn’t know how he’s getting out of there. He can’t exactly go back to the army, they all seen him _die_ , and as much as he’s sure Vietnam is a nice place to live, he doesn’t want to stay.

So he walks. He’ll find someone to help him, and he’ll get back to the states, and he’ll _never_ fight in another god damn war again if he has _any_ say so.

\-----

Eventually, about a month later, Pete does get back to the US, thanks to a friendly local who was willing to take him to an airport. When he does get back, it’s only then that he realizes he’s going to have to start over. Again.

Everyone back where he’d lived in Chicago will no doubt have gotten word that he’s “dead” by now, and he can’t exactly show up out of nowhere and say hi. So he gets his shit out of storage, and leaves.

At first, he’s got no clue where he wants to go, but in the end decides California is as good a place as any, and he winds up in San Francisco.

After three months there, news gets out that they’re pulling soldiers from Vietnam, and _god_ , Pete hopes everyone he knew is getting to go home.

\-----

It’s not until 1978, that he finally meets Patrick again.

They meet at a bar in mid-February, on probably the coldest night of that year. This Patrick is in a local band, and he plays shows most weekends in different venues. Pete goes to every single one that he’s able to during their time together.

After four months of knowing each other, Patrick makes the first move, and a week later, they’re living together.

It all happens so fast, that Pete’s on cloud fucking nine, and in September, he’s entertaining thoughts of _maybe, this time, this is it….._

Then, in November, Patrick gets sick.

It's nothing bad, just a case of the flu, that he's over in under a week. Neither of them think anything of it, but then about a month later, he gets sick again. 

Again, neither of them think anything of it, but over the course of the next year, he's almost always sick, and no matter what doctor they visit, nothing helps.

He gets worse, and worse, until in January of 1980, he tells Pete he knows he isn't going to make it, he then proceeds to tearfully tell Pete that if he wants to leave, instead of living with a dying man, then he's free to go.

Pete calls him a fucking dumbass, and stays anyway.

Two painful months later, Patrick's gone, and Pete's alone again.

A year later, he finds out that what killed Patrick -and many other gay men like themselves- was called AIDS.

Pete makes it his mission from then on to donate to anyone researching how to prevent and cure it, because if it helps someone who only gets to meet the love of their life once, then he'll be damned if he isn't going to help.

After the news breaks that what killed Patrick was something the government was just...not going to help with, Pete needs a break.

In 1983, he buys a plane ticket for Egypt, and goes to visit Liz.

She’s 63 now, and definitely looks different, but she still smacks him upside the head and yells at him for “ _not fucking visiting in nearly thirty years you asshole_ ”, so she hasn’t changed a bit.

He gets to meet a now grown up Talulah, and her younger brother Micah. He also gets to see Farah and Andro again, and as it turns out, Liz had told them about him and his inability to age, which they were luckily not too freaked out about.

He stays with them for about a month, and when he leaves, is treated to many hugs and threats if he stops calling again for as long as he did when he was in Vietnam.

\-----

In 1984, Pete decides to go back to Chicago. As nice as San Francisco is, Chicago was one of the only places he _really_ loved. Along with that, the music scene is beginning to become more and more inviting to him. Also, he misses the pizza. Nowhere else has good pizza like Chicago does.

Once he gets to Chicago, he fully invests himself in music. He spends time at a local music store, and eventually buys himself a bass to learn to play. He never gets as good as he wants to get, but he doesn’t think he’s too terrible.

He goes to shows too, learns the names of people in the scene, and all the popular bands at the moment.

Rock ‘n Roll is definitely where it’s at for him, and concerts become his favorite thing to go to. Standing in the pit, surrounded by tons of people, it’s a fucking _adrenaline rush_ for him, and not something he wants to give up.

Around 1990, he starts playing with different bands, under several different names. They’re all pretty obviously made up names, but he’d rather not have his own name get big, and then have to fake his death or something just so he can stick around.

It’s not until 1996 that he starts using his own name again. Or, his first name anyway. He meets a couple, with the last name Wentz around that time, and decides to use that name. 

He starts calling himself Pete Wentz, and that’s when he meets Andy.

He’d heard of Andy, but until they wound up in a band together, they’d never met. Turns out, Andy’s a great dude, and an _excellent_ drummer. They’re in a band called Racetraitor for a few years together, then when interest in that band starts fading, Pete joins Arma Angelus.

Eventually, he can feel the interest in Arma fading too, so he and his friend Joe -who’s young, but a cool kid- decide to start their own little project. After a little while looking for both a vocalist and a drummer, Joe tells Pete he’s met a guy who drums for a few other bands. 

They arrange to meet up, and have the guy play for them. Pete doesn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about it, but when he meets the guy, and he turns out to be Patrick, Pete knows right then and there he’s going to be in the band one way or another. This Patrick is young, only seventeen, but he’s _Patrick_ , and Pete knows Patrick can sing. Fuck if he’s going to stick Patrick behind a drumset when he deserves the spotlight.

This Patrick doesn’t _want_ to sing, but after a bit of convincing from both Pete and Joe, he agrees to try it. Turns out, Pete was right, and he can fucking sing.

That right there, is the ticket. Everyone loves Patrick’s voice, and fast forward a few years, Andy’s their drummer, they’ve released an album, and they’re going on _tour_.

It’s fucking _amazing_ , right. He’s touring with Patrick, by his side almost twenty-four seven. Of course, Patrick’s still a young adult, and Pete’s kind of got a temper, so they don’t always get along, but Pete wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Joe and Andy are his best friends now too, and Pete’s starting a _label_ , because he's got money, and influence, and he can. And in the rush, and madness of everything, he’s happy. Patrick’s still only nineteen, but Pete can’t bring himself to really care. They’re best friends, and he’s with Patrick, making music and memories, and it’s great.

\-----

Then 2004-2005 happens.

Patrick’s got a girlfriend, and Pete tries not to let it bother him -really he does- because Patrick seems happy. It doesn’t matter that Patrick having a girlfriend means Pete’s going to eventually have to leave the band -and Andy, and Joe, and their growing fan base- because he’s not going to age, and it _definitely_ doesn’t matter that watching Patrick be with someone else is hurting more than he cares to admit.

Mostly, he’s dealing. He’s writing his heartache and pain out into his music, Patrick’s turning his words into something actually worth listening to, and it’s okay. He’s dealing.

He’s dealing, and then at the end of 2004, Liz dies.

Talulah calls to tell him, and it’s. It’s not as bad as it could be. She died in her sleep, peacefully, and Pete had just talked to her barely a week ago, but.

He doesn’t function well after that.

He gets out of bed, because there are shows to play, and fans to meet, and three other guys counting on him, but it’s fucking hard, is the thing. When they start recording their next album, Pete’s excited, but it’s not enough to draw him out of his head.

It all comes to head in February, and even though, logically, he knows he can’t die, he still….hopes.

All that happens, is he’s disappointed in himself, Patrick, Joe, and Andy are all terrified, and maybe a little pissed, and the fans are heartbroken. He takes some time off then, because there’s no way he can just...bounce back, not right away.

Eventually though, he recovers.

Not fully maybe, because knowing Patrick doesn’t want him, and he’s going to have to leave eventually, it still sucks. But he tells himself to _get the fuck over it_ , because this isn’t new. He’s been doing this since fucking 1576, and he’s had it worse before.

Instead, he turns his attention elsewhere. He can never fully hide how, well, _in love_ he is with Patrick -god knows the fans pick up on it-, and he’s never going to try to distance himself from Patrick. He finds other people to love too though.

Meeting Gabe Saporta, is both a blessing, and kind of amazing. He looks just like the Mr. Saporta Pete had known back in Uruguay, but he’s got Mrs. Saporta’s heart. He’s also talented, smart, and quickly becomes one of Pete’s best friends.

Mikey Way is….god, if things had turned out differently, Pete would have spent his life with Mikey.

It was the wrong time though, for both of them really, Mikey had his own problems, and Pete’s...a mess. Then in 2008, there’s Ashlee. The whole thing with her is a mess in and of itself; he never actually considered _marrying_ her, but then she gets pregnant, and they’re _celebrities_ , so, marriage it is.

When Bronx is born, Pete’s both elated, and devastated. He’s always wanted kids, but never actually entertained the idea of _having_ them, just because it seemed so unrealistic. He’s excited to have Bronx, _of course_ he is, but at the same time, he’s not. His kid’s going to die, and Pete’s going to keep living and…..god it’s not what he wants right now.

Another thing he doesn’t _really_ want, is Fall Out Boy going on hiatus. Truthfully, he knows they need it. He and Patrick’s relationship has been strained for a while -Pete had drawn away from Patrick after getting married, because being in love while being married was not something he wanted- and it was showing.

So Fall Out Boy goes on hiatus, and it seems like Patrick’s leaving him again.

In 2011, when Ashlee tells him she wants a divorce, Pete feels relieved, and then he feels guilty for feeling relieved. It’s not like he can help it though, and soon enough, he’s single again.

Also that year, Patrick releases his solo album. It’s a work of fucking art, and Pete buys a physical copy every time he sees it in a store for the first two months after it’s released.

They haven’t really….talked, not in a couple years. Not since Pete joined the Black Cards. In 2012 though, Patrick’s blog posts begin to worry Pete, and Pete finally says ‘screw it’ and reaches out.

It goes way better than planned. Patrick’s willing to talk, neither of them are hostile, and _god_ , both of them want to get Fall Out Boy back together. They agree to meet up in person, to….test the waters, so to speak. Neither of them wants to contact Joe or Andy until they know for sure they want to do this, because neither of them wants to let the other two down.

They meet up at Patrick’s place, and the first half hour is awkward. Not _awfully_ awkward, just...awkward. It’s eating away at both of them, Pete _knows_ it is, but he has no idea how to break the awkwardness, until Patrick brings up seeing him at one of his Soul Punk shows.

Pete shrugs, his cheeks heating into a blush. “Of course I went to see you, when have you ever known me to stay away?”

Patrick laughs a little, then stares at Pete, looking more than a little pleased. “I love that, that you can never stay away from me. I like knowing you’ll always be there.”

Pete’s probably a little more adamant than he should be, given the situation, when he replies, but he can’t exactly bring himself to _care_. “I _always_ will be ‘Trick, it doesn’t matter what happens.”

Patrick’s giving him a considering look, and Pete has a bit of a deja vu moment, and thinks of all the other versions of Patrick who have given him that look, and then Patrick’s kissing him.

There hadn’t exactly been much space between them in the first place -they never did know how to sit a normal distance away from each other- but then Patrick’s right up in his space, cupping his cheek and brushing Pete’s bangs out of the way as he _kisses him_.

Pete’s stunned for a moment, because out of all the scenarios he’d imagined for today -Patrick punching him, them winding up in a screaming match, them just calmly writing music- _this_ had not been one of them. It’s probably a good thirty seconds before he finally _gets with it_ , and he’s kissing Patrick back.

Once he starts kissing back, he feels how much Patrick relaxes against him, and then the kiss gets even better. Eventually, they pull away, and it’s only then that Pete realizes how _wet_ his cheeks are. Patrick looks concerned, and brings his other hand up to rest on Pete’s other cheek.

“Hey come on, what’s wrong? I’m not that bad of a kisser am I?” He trails off with a chuckle, and Pete tries to laugh with him, but all that comes out is a strangled sort of sob, and he shakes his head instead.

“N-No you’re-oh god you’re amazing-I’m just.” He sniffs and reaches a hand up to wipe at his eyes. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this Patrick.” His voice breaks a little on Patrick’s name, and Patrick’s face softens.

“I’m so sorry Pete, but. God, you have no idea how much I wanted this too.” Pete does laugh then, and grabs onto Patrick’s wrists.

“I guess we’re both kind of idiots aren’t we?”

The grin on Patrick’s face is almost blinding. “Yeah Pete, we kind of are.”

Pete leans in for another kiss, and from then on, everything feels so natural, it’s almost like a dream.

The dream gets better, because several minutes later Patrick pulls Pete up off the couch, and to his bedroom. Pete has no clue how far Patrick wanted to even _go_ with this, but letting Patrick take control is more than okay with him, and soon enough they’re both naked, and in bed.

Patrick’s gentle as he can possibly be, almost like he’s afraid he’ll break Pete -it’s laughable, but Pete doesn’t really _mind_ the sentiment- and Pete’s just as gentle in return. They take their time, neither of them feels the need to rush, and it’s perfect.

When they do finish, they stay in bed, kissing, with Patrick tracing the lines of all of Pete’s tattoos, just talking. Pete feels completely whole, and _god_ , if this Patrick gets taken away from him too, he doesn’t know if he’ll make it.

\-----

Fall Out Boy gets back together, Pete and Patrick _get_ together, and the next few years are _astounding_.

Turns out, the four of them aren’t the only ones who needed Fall Out Boy, and with Pete and Patrick together, they’re sending more hopeful messages than self deprecating and depressing ones these days.

Pete gets caught up in it once again, though this time there’s more good feelings and happiness than there was the last time he let himself get caught up in things, and before he knows it, it’s been ten years since he and Patrick got back together, and nearly as many since they got the band back together.

Occasionally, Pete will think about the past. He wonders what Mei would see in him; if she’d still see the scared boy who’d seen too much. Sometimes he even thinks about what his life would’ve been like if he _hadn’t_ drank that potion. He’d have less nightmares, he supposes.

Mostly though, he lives in the now, and tries not to dwell on anything, for the sake of his own sanity.

One morning, he’s eating breakfast, and scrolling through twitter, when he stumbles across a fan’s tweet. It’s a selfie he’d taken just a few weeks ago, next to a picture of himself he’d taken twenty years ago, back when the band had first started.

The caption is something like “emo is aging” or something like that, but all Pete gets stuck on is the aging part. In the most recent picture, he’s got some wrinkles, and smile lines, and he’s definitely aged.

He’s _aged_.

It hits him, right there, at his and Patrick’s kitchen table, with a bowl of cereal in front of him, that he’s aging. He’s growing older, and so is Patrick.

He’s not going to have to watch his friends die, he’s not going to have to forget them. He’s going to die _before_ his kids, and quite possibly Patrick. He’s going to _grow old with Patrick_.

When that thought hits him, he drops his phone, and he’s dimly aware that he’s crying.

Either the sound of his phone dropping was loud, or he’s crying louder than he thought he was, because a minute later, Patrick’s found his way into the kitchen, pajamas pants still on as he’s pulling a shirt over his head, with a slightly panicked look on his face. When he sees Pete, he’s immediately by his side and picking up his phone to see what could have possibly upset Pete so much.

“Pete baby, what’s wrong? Are you oka-are you crying because you’re getting old?” Pete lets out a loud laugh, and nods, before standing up to hug Patrick. He can tell Patrick’s a little worried, only because his movements are so unsure. “Pete you know-it’s okay. Everyone ages and gets old it’s nothing to be upset abo-”

“I’m not _upset_ ‘Trick, I’m happy.”

“Pete if this is some leftover death wish you have then-”

Pete shakes his head and pulls back to look at Patrick. “No _no_ , god, fuck no, it’s just….” He stops, and tries to find a way to word it without freaking Patrick out. “...I’m just-I’m getting old with _you_.”

Patrick raises an eyebrow. “....and...that’s a good thing, right? Because if it’s not-”

“It’s _amazing_ Patrick, and I’m so, _so_ happy to be growing old with you.”

A small smile grows on Patrick’s face, and he shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous Pete.” Pete shrugs, and Patrick laughs before pulling him in for a kiss. When they break apart, he’s got a hand in Pete’s hair, and the other on his waist. “And just for the record, I’m just as happy as you.” He presses a kiss to Pete’s cheek. “I’d live a hundred lives just to be with you Pete.”

Pete feels his heart beat a little faster for a moment, and he looks at Patrick in disbelief. “No way ‘Trick.”

Patrick shrugs, and gives him a secretive little grin. “Of course Peter. Now finish your breakfast, we’ve got shit to do today.”

He turns and leaves the room, presumably to go get dressed. Pete stands there for a moment, before huffing out a little laugh, and going to finish his bowl of cereal.

For once, even though he still has no clue what’s going to happen, he’s excited about the future, because no matter what happens, he knows he’ll have Patrick by his side. 

That’s enough to make him look forward to everything, the good and the bad.


End file.
